I'm Not Broken
by waterwitch22
Summary: A one shot addressing Ron's perceived immaturity and his own thoughts on who he is.  Rated M for language.  Re-posted because of an error.


**Hello again. Here's another Ron/Hermione one shot I wrote directed at the perceived idea of Ron's perpetual immaturity. On with it.**

**I do not own Harry Potter, or any associated characters.**

Ron and Hermione had been engaged for eight months and were deeply immersed in the planning process of their wedding. The couple was roughly four months away from completing their journey from engaged to married. They were still living apart but they had agreed to settle in Ron's one bedroom flat after the wedding, as it had been slightly larger and miraculously cheaper. Also, Hermione spent her most of her nights with Ron in his flat and she just liked it better. His flat was "home" to her. Even Crookshanks preferred it. One weekend, while Hermione was out of town with her parents, the big orange beast stalked over in the middle of the night and yowled at Ron's window until he awoke and let him in. He hadn't left since. Half of his wardrobe and dresser was filled with her clothes. Her parents were far more likely to call Ron's telephone (installed at Hermione's insistence), knowing full well that his flat was where she spent most of her nights. Ron oftentimes joked that her flat was a storage facility that she paid far too much rent on. He once laughed, "I hope it's haunted, someone ought to be using that bloody place since you're not there!" With both of their incomes, they would be able to save for a house within eighteen months of their marriage. At least, that was the plan.

Things were going relatively well until one hot Saturday. It was a horrible Saturday. It was a steaming hot, summer day in London and Hermione was fretting over floral arrangements, music, the final guest list, food, centerpieces, and other various details. Ron had a particularly hectic work week and was truly in no mood to work on the wedding. It's not that he wasn't excited; it's not even that he didn't care, but he wasn't of very much use after getting a grand total of twelve hours sleep over a five day period. He was tired. She was stressed. It was a recipe for disaster.

"Ron I need you to look over this guest list with me. I'd hate to think that we'd forgotten anyone in the seating arrangements. This should have been done two weeks ago. Ron?"

She rolled her eyes upon finding him. He'd been stretched out on the couch, the wireless played a Quidditch match and he was fast asleep. It was nearly three in the afternoon. He woke up at twelve today and he hadn't done very much since then. She stood over him.

"Ronald!" He woke with a start, eyes attempting to focus on his fiancé. She looked exasperated and irritable. He smiled up at her sleepily but she made no effort to return his smile. She wanted to get a respectable amount of work done with the wedding and nothing was going to stop her. "Ron, I need you to get up and help me."

"Awh, come on, Hermione. I think I worked 70 hours this week. I'm knackered. Do we have to do this today?" He moved slowly, stretching himself out.

"Yes, you _actually_ worked hard this past week and you managed to sleep in today, while I ran errands this morning! Honestly, Ron! I think I'm the only person getting married here!" She snapped, yanking the throw pillow from beneath his head and dropping it, none too gently, back onto his chest.

He sat up fully, placing the pillow into its proper place, his nap clearly over. "Please don't start this again."

That was it. She launched into hysterics; the volume of her voice rising with her temper. "What? Don't start what? Don't start expecting you to contribute something here? You aren't helping me! Has it occurred to you that I'm tired too? I work too! I worked long hours too! I hardly slept too!"

"Oh Merlin's beard, Hermione, I simply said I was tired! There's no need for you to be such a damned shrew!" Ron yelled, his own composure slipping.

"And there's no need for you to be such an arse, Ronald! I am asking you to help me! You do NOT have to insult me!" She shot back, rising to the argument.

Ron snapped, now in a rage. "Asking me? You didn't ask me shit! You woke me up and started barking at me! I'm tired! I'm sorry I'm tired! But you don't have to condescend or yell at me! You're my fiancée, not my fucking mother!"

"Well, I wouldn't have to mother you if you weren't acting like such a child, Ron! I do everything here and I'm tired, you cripple! You think you're the only person who works in this world?" She yelled, her tone dripping with indignation.

His anger was eclipsed only by his disbelief at how this had escalated. "NO! I know I'm not the only person who works in this world, Hermione! There's no need to talk to me like I'm some kind of idiot."

"Well maybe if you spent less time acting like an idiot, I wouldn't talk to you like you are one!" The flood gates were open; there was no stopping her now.

Nevertheless, he tried. "Dammit, Hermione, this is insane! You don't have to be insulting! All I'm saying is-"

She cut him off, nowhere near done. "You aren't saying anything, as usual! God, Ron! You don't take anything seriously! Sometimes I wonder why I'm even…"

"WHY ARE YOU," He exploded. Her eyes grew impossibly round. While she and Ron bickered often and had all out arguments from time to time, he had VERY rarely yelled at her at his full volume. "Why are you marrying a childish prat like me?"

"Just leave me alone, Ron. You're inconsiderate, you're lazy and you don't care about this!" She yelled gesturing toward the pile of papers and materials for the wedding. "I must be crazy, look at me, getting ready to marry the idiot who had made my life miserable since I was twelve! You know what Ron; I do wonder what we _are_ doing. I want to be happy with you, but I feel like I'm the only one trying here. I don't want to regret anything with you Ron, but I need to know that you're taking this seriously," She answered, suddenly calm.

"Hermione, I take this very seriously. I want this. I want to marry you. I'm still recovering from that engagement ring…I DON'T regret it!" He added quickly when her mouth snapped open to protest his remark about the expensive engagement ring he bought her. "What do you want from me?" There was no hiding the shock, hurt and confusion from his tone.

"I just…I need…I need to go home. I need to get my head together. I want to marry someone who's ready for a full life with me. But right now I feel like I'm marrying a lazy and tempestuous child. Will you ever grow up?" She stepped back, retrieving her wand from the end table. "I need to go."

"Don't do this to me," He tried, walking over to her. "Don't walk out. Just calm down."

"I am calm. I just need to think. Don't call me for a while. I need to think. I'm sorry."

With that, she disapparated.

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Hermione apparated outside her childhood home. She walked to the front door. Within seconds her mother, Jean Granger, was at the door.

"Hermione! What a surprise! What are you doing here at-," She stopped when she noticed the look on her daughter's face. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

There was nothing left of Hermione's resolve, when she launched herself into her mother's arms. "Oh mum." She sobbed, loud, back breaking sobs into her mother's shoulder.

"What did he do?" Jean asked, expecting some sort of horror story from her daughter about Ron. Hermione has never behaved like this in the past. While Hermione had cried over Ron before, her tears were normally those of a lovesick young woman. It was never like this. This behavior had Jean worried about her little girl. Especially, so close to her wedding. Could Ron have done something terrible? He was such a sweet young man and while they bickered, this emotional breakdown had never happened.

"Nothing! It wasn't him, it was me. It was all me. But, I feel I've ruined it all, mum. There's no way he'll marry me. Not after the things I said to him, not after the way I yelled at him. I don't even know why I was so angry. But I started and I couldn't bring myself to stop. And I just had to get out of there."

"Come inside, love. Tell me everything. We'll figure this whole thing out."

Jean welcomed her daughter into the house. Hermione's father had been visiting a friend and would be gone for the next few hours. After fixing her daughter a cup of tea, they settled down at the small bistro table in the kitchen for a talk. Hermione told her mother in detail the things she said to Ron. She told her how angry she had become, how she had found herself consumed by a blind rage over nothing. She told her mother how she feared that her anger had led to the cancellation of her wedding to the only man she would ever love.

"Hermione, I don't say this often but you were wrong."

"Mum, I know, I just don't know what to do. I wanted to go back the minute I left, but I couldn't bring myself to."

"Why not? If you believe you were wrong, why would you not fix things, especially at such a point in the relationship? Is your pride so great, that you'd jeopardize your marriage?"

"No, of course not. I just found myself thinking about everything. He _can_ be so immature, mum. I find myself forcing him to do everything. Every little thing. I have to tell him to put his shirts in the hamper. I have to remind him to put his shoes in the closet. He doesn't do the dishes when they should be done. He cooks and the kitchen is a disaster area when he's done."

"Yes. I went through something like this with your father. I find that your Ron reminds me a bit of your dad. Especially, when he's busy. He forgets everything when his work has him busy. I remember this one time, you had to be about seven years old, and he was under such stress over the renewal of his dental license that he put everything in the dishwasher right side up. It was difficult enough to get him to fill the damn thing in the first place and when the cycle was done, the bowls and the cups were filled with dirty water. He did it so absently. I mean, honestly, it was a stupid thing to do. But it was an honest mistake."

"Seven? I would remember that?"

"Oh, I had sent you to your Nan's for the weekend. My dental license was valid for another year and your father needed to get his renewal, lest we lose patients, so we needed a completely quiet house so he could be prepared to pass his exam. Anyway, when I opened that dishwasher and saw that dirty water, I went insane. I shouted at your father for having done something so mindlessly stupid. I mean it; I was so incredibly mean to him in those moments, I would not have been surprised if he left me then and there. I know it seems small. It certainly seems small now. But it's the reactions you have to the little things that could change a relationship."

"Well, what did you do?"

"Well, he went to his study. Finished getting ready for his exam and went to take it. When he got home, I begged him to forgive me for being such a cow. He did. The hurt was still in his eyes for a few weeks, but he got over it, eventually. You know, sweetheart, if there's one thing we have in common, you and I, it's our temper. As mild and agreeable as we seem, when pushed to our limits, our mouths tend run away with us. Hermione, Ron is a very good man. But every good man has his limit. I know you're stressed over this wedding. I know you want perfection. But when you're standing at that altar with him, preparing to join your life to his that is the only thing that matters. The rest are trifles. You won't remember the flowers or the table settings. You will remember the look in his eyes when he sees his bride. Nothing else will matter. And believe me; the wedding is going to be perfect. I mean…you are using magic aren't you?"

Hermione genuinely laughed through her tears at that question. She adored her mother's uncanny ability to lighten the mood when she was feeling her lowest.

"And sweetheart, just because he's tired doesn't mean he doesn't care. It seems to me that you tend to feel compelled to punish him when the stress of a given situation gets to you. He works long hours to try and make a good life for you two. He honestly tries."

"That's the thing, mum, I don't care about all of that. I don't care about money. I make my own money. I can take care of myself. I just want him! I have everything I want with him and I feel insulted when he goes on about money. How could he think I'm so shallow?"

"Well, I don't think he wants to make enough money to keep you. I just think he doesn't want to struggle. He's one of seven children. I talked to him when he first came to dinner here. Hermione, his family struggled. On the surface, love seemed to be enough to keep his parents afloat, but you didn't see them behind closed doors. That type of struggling can take its toll. He simply doesn't want to endure that again."

"And his temper…he gets so angry…"

"Hermione, dear! I think you're grasping at straws here! Are you that desperate to be in the right? I know the way you can rail against him when _you're_ angry. I've seen it! You've treated Ron like a verbal punch bag quite a few times. Now, I may not condone his words if I knew what he said to you, but a man has to defend himself. Especially with you berating him so. Look, love, what you need to focus on is one thing: Do you want to marry Ron Weasley or not?"

"Yes."

"Then you need to accept EVERYTHING about him, as he accepts everything about you. If he continues to feel inadequate, every time he upsets you, he may just walk away. You need to fix this. You need to make things right."

Brilliant as she was, she didn't know how to do it. "How?"

"Listen to him. Try to understand him, not improve him. You may find that there's actually nothing to improve. But most importantly, let him love you and love him back."

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A few hours later, sitting in her parent's kitchen, she contemplated just going to Ron now. It was just after 11 pm. She announced to her parents that she was going to go home to her flat. They tried to convince her to stay with them for the night, but she honestly wanted to be alone. She bade her parents goodnight and apparated to her own flat. After spending so much time at Ron's she'd grown to hate her place. It was quaint and tidy. It was in a safe area. But there wasn't enough room here. She couldn't wait to move out of here after the wedding. If there was still a wedding…

"No don't think that way, Hermione. It was just small row. It'll be fine. You're just over reacting." She repeated those words and variations of them while preparing for bed. Before settling in her own bed she decided that she would call him. She picked up the receiver to the phone and dialed the number to Ron's and waited as it rang several times. She knew she had upset him and she wasn't sure he'd want to see her just yet after the way she acted. She was preparing to hang up when he finally answered.

"Hello?"

"It's me."

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to tell you I'm alright. I'm at …at my flat. I wanted to come home to you, but it's late and I should rest."

"Alright."

"Unless you think I should come home."

"I think you should stay there, Hermione."

"Oh…well…okay…then I'll stay here tonight. I'll come home tomorrow, yeah?"

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay…well, goodnight then. I love you, Ron."

"'Night." The click signaled he'd ended the call. He didn't say he loved her. He was angry. He needed space tonight.

Her stomach had a dull ache pulsing through it and she forced down the impending wave of emotion rising in her throat as she made her way to her bedroom. She slipped on a Cannons T-shirt that Ron had given her just after they got together following the war. She adored the puzzled look on his face when she constantly asked to wear one of his shirts to bed instead of her own night clothes. She distinctly remembered one night in his small room at the burrow when she'd brazenly stolen the shirt off of his back.

_It was late summer and he'd just gotten out of the shower. He had on a pair of cotton pajama bottoms and a plain blue t-shirt. Modesty was recently lost to the couple as their relationship had quickly become physical following Fred's funeral. It was August and they'd gone at it enough times to leave shyness at the door. He walked into the room, hair still wet from the shower, to find her sitting on his bed. He'd barely shut the door when she leaped into his arms, legs locked around his waist, arms around his neck and lips securely fastened to his, practically knocking him off of his feet. He gotten rather used to being tackled by his girlfriend when she was feeling particularly affectionate. After she'd covered his face and neck in kisses while he twirled her around his small room, he gingerly pried her legs and arms from around him and placed her on his bed. They had to be careful with their coupling as Ron's mum was on to them and they knew she'd detect any casting of silencing charms in any part of the house. Harry and Ginny were plenty hacked off at them for nearly getting caught a few days previous and Molly's suspicious mind and talented wand had made it impossible for any of them to sneak about. _

"_I just came to say goodnight to you,"_ _she whispered while lifting herself to her knees on his bed. She was wearing a tight green camisole and short cotton shorts. She'd been sleeping in Percy's room since she'd basically moved in following the war. Harry was given Charlie's room, but his nightmares, which were still prominent even after it was all over, kept him creeping up to Ron's room to sleep in the camp bed that Ron had kept set up. Harry was adjusting incredibly well to it all, but at night he didn't want to be alone. Even though he and Ginny were back on and seemed rather happy, everyone was shocked to find that Harry preferred Ron's company following his nightmares. It wasn't that Ron was more soothing or had a special talent for comforting Harry, it was just that Harry was used to him. It was one of the few consistencies that Harry held on to with all of his might during the seven years that Voldemort and his Death Eaters were trying to destroy him. Harry found it infinitely comforting to know that at any point in the night, he could glance to his right and Ron would be there. His presence was all he needed._

"_Well you'd better say goodnight fast before my mum comes in here ready to yell the roof off the house," Ron replied while appreciatively drinking in the sight of his braless girlfriend._

"_Alright, well…goodnight, big man."_

_Ron smiled at the pet name Hermione had given him, the double entendre was completely intended, but it was also a name she'd given him in appreciation for the way the rest of him had filled out as well. Hermione fully appreciated how Ron had grown from a skinny, wiry little boy to a well filled out man._

_After giving him a lengthy kiss goodnight, Hermione walked to his door, where she stopped and spun hastily. "Come here."_

_Slowly walking to her, Ron tried to diffuse the sensual energy crackling between them. Molly was lurking about and if they got caught, well…Ron tried not to think of what she'd do to him. "Hermione, my mum is gonna turn me into a throw rug if she catches us up here."_

"_Relax."_

"_It'll give her an excuse to take me out every week and beat me."_

"_Shhhh," she replied putting a finger to his lips. "I just need one more thing from you. Then I'll get out of your hair."_

"_And what's that?"_

"_Your shirt," she answered, quickly grabbing the bottom of his T-shirt and lifting it over his head._

"_Hermione, what are-" He was cut off by Hermione dropping his shirt and then hastily removing her own. His view of her breasts was short lived when she slipped his shirt onto her own body. "Oh, well in that case…" Ron picked Hermione's discarded cami and squeezed into it._

_Hermione choked on her giggles at the sight of him standing there attempting to wear something that had to be four sizes too small._

"_You think I can go the whole night in this?" Ron asked, placing a hand on his hip and grinning slyly. He punctuated the question with an exaggerated and feminine flip of his hair._

_Laughing out loud, Hermione responded, "I'd like to see you try, love." She leaned in and gave him a light peck on the lips. Just then Harry opened the door and stepped in to what may have been the strangest scene between his two best friends._

"_Oh…oh, come on guys," was all he could manage._

_Both Ron and Hermione laughed in earnest this time as Hermione slipped out of the door._

"_Goodnight, boys."_

_Slipping into bed that night, Hermione smiled as she snuggled into the soft cotton shirt she had slipped off of her boyfriend and onto herself. He told her the next day that Harry insisted he change out of the green camisole._

While the memory brought a smile to her face, Hermione knew she was in for a tough night. Why did she snap at him? They were both stressed. Their work schedules coupled with wedding planning was not a recipe for easy weekends. But was it all enough to resort in the two of them being at each other's throats? Their bickering was never problem. In fact, it was a kind of foreplay for the two of them. So why had today gone so badly? Why didn't she just take a deep breath, count to three and give him a moment to wake up before asking for his help? Not at all comforted by the quiet in her flat, she wrapped herself around her pillow and gave into the restless sleep ahead of her.

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The next morning she woke up relatively early, at least for a Sunday. It looked to be another hot day and there seemed to be no rain in sight. She slid out of bed and quickly showered. She dressed in jeans and a soft, purple t-shirt, made herself a cup of tea, some eggs on toast and sat on her couch reading the Prophet and having her quick breakfast. Her stomach was in knots but it dawned on her that she hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon and she needed to get something into her. After eating half of her breakfast and reading the Prophet twice, Hermione walked to her bedroom and opened the closet. Right at the front, enclosed in a garment bag hung her wedding dress.

_It was a very pretty, very simple piece that she had to have the minute she laid eyes upon it. The simple, strapless, A-line cut gown was made of silk and had a midnight blue ribbon that tied around the waist at the back, it's trails falling down to her knees. The ribbon was to match Ron's dress robes. It was an informal gown, but it was perfect for her and Ron's wedding. She'd gone out with her mother, Molly and Ginny four months ago to find "the perfect wedding dress." Her mother had all of these ideas about tulle, chiffon, lace, elaborate veils and a train long enough to be carried by TWO flower girls. Molly believed the perfect wedding dress was the one that could make the groom cry. Ginny, insisted, the perfect wedding dress was the one that "called to you." Being your mother's only daughter had its share of perils; a fact she and Ginny laughed about often. The four women had gone from shop to shop hunting for perfection, when Hermione had seen the dress she chose off to the side. It was not what her mother had in mind but when she saw it she had to have it. She'd walked over to the dress, lifted it off the hanger and whispered,_ _"This is it."_

She was snapped out of her reverie by a knock at her door. Closing the dress back into its bag and shutting the closet door, she went to her front door. Looking through the peep hole, she discovered that it was Ron waiting on the other side. She swallowed and took a deep breath, _"this is it."_

She opened the door where he was standing on the other side. She drank in the sight of him, standing there in a pair of blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt.

"I was getting ready to come to see you."

"We need to talk."

He walked passed her into the flat.

"Ron, I'm so sorry-," she was cut off straight away.

"No, I need to talk and you need to listen."

She opened her mouth to protest but was silenced by the look on Ron's face. He looked stressed, tortured even. She didn't need to be told that last night had been incredibly painful for him, his eyes said it all. She prepared herself for what he had to say and sat down on her couch. He stayed standing.

"Let me make some things perfectly clear to you, because it scares me that you accepted the marriage proposal of a man you do NOT know! I know who you are, Hermione, I know damned well who you are! I know what annoys you, I know what hurts you, I know what makes you angry, what makes you happy. I know that for some ungodly reason, you won't eat yellow candy. I know that thunderstorms scared you when you were a little girl and even now they make you nervous. I know that you were stung by a bee when you were six and now even the sound of buzzing makes you uneasy. I know how much you hate being known as the brightest, because of the expectations people have of you. I know you like to cuddle at night and you're randy early in the morning, right before the sun comes up," she ducked her head, blushing furiously at the last statement. There were far more occasions than she dared to count when she found creative ways to wake him for an early morning shag.

"I know when you're sick. I know when you're tired. I know when you need me and when you need to be left alone. Merlin, I know your bloody cycle like the back of my own hand! I know that you don't care if something is done right, as long as you know that someone honestly tried. You hate lies! You detest silence for the sake of harmony! You'd rather come out and say it. You sing at the top of your lungs when you think no one's watching. You want things done when you ask for them, no later. You're terrified that I'll leave you and never come back so whenever I go on raid, you make sure you tell me to come back to you. Not to come back home, not to come back to the family, but to come back to you. No one could ever call you selfish. But you are when it comes to me. Last Christmas you sulked for half an hour because I complimented Fleur's hair. I know everything, absolutely everything about you."

By now his voice had started to crack. His blue eyes were wet. He was extremely upset, she couldn't quite place the emotion, but it was on the verge of bursting out of him with full force.

"And what scares me is you don't know me. You don't know me at all, or maybe you just don't care-,"

"Ron, that's not-"

"STOP IT! Just listen! Just listen to me." Some of the tears that were threatening to fall had begun to descend his cheeks. "I need you to hear me."

He stood before her and gestured to his full self.

"This is me. This is exactly who I am, alright? I get jealous…a lot! I use my instincts! They're all I have! I can't read your mind. If there's ever a time I make you unhappy, you have to tell me. You have to be direct. I can't read your little hints. Good for any man who can read hints, but I can't. You want something from me, Hermione, you have to tell me! You just have to! I have to be honest with you; I don't like any of this. I'm having a hard time being 'Ron and Hermione.' I went to go talk to my dad about this and when I got there, my mum asked me what I did. What I did. Ginny and Harry popped in and Ginny took one look at me and asked what I did! It's always me, Hermione. I'm the fucking tosser who's always starting the rows!"

By this point, he was pacing, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"I didn't tell them that it wasn't me because I know bloody well they'd have a damn hard time believing that this one, as far as they know, was you! All I hear people say is how good you are for me! 'Oh, Hermione is exactly what that Weasley boy needs. She'll get him in line.' That's rubbish to me, you see, because there's nothing wrong with me. You can't fix me, Hermione! I'm not broken! I am who I am. I have done everything I could to do right by you, but it is NEVER enough! I'm the one with the problem but somehow you're the one who has absolutely no problem insulting me to my face, the way you used to a bloody decade ago!"

He was having a hard time getting the words out. His turbulent emotions spilling out full force.

"Who's matured here? I love you more than anything in this world, and what scares me is at the end of the day, I have doubts! Especially when we struggle, I don't know what you're feeling, I don't know if you love me because you just shut down and I'm left wondering what the fuck I can do to make things right and the worst part is at the end of the day its always me. It always me! I just, I don't know what's happening here, Hermione. You exploded over flowers, and the guest list. Last time you called me a stupid fucking prat and walked out over a tea stain on the floor. You don't want me to leave you, you never let me forget the tent, but you walk out on me. You walk out all the fucking time! You come back and I'm the one promising you that things are going to change. You've never given that back to me, not one, bloody time."

Hermione was at a loss for words. Her own tears began to fall and she just sat there, her head hanging in shame. Suddenly Ron was on his knees in front of her.

"Look at me."

She looked up, her sad gaze meeting his intense one. He took her hands in his.

"I don't give a shit about any of it. I love you. I want you. I want to marry you. I want to marry you because you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known. I want to marry you because you don't care about stupid shit like hair and shoes. You don't gossip or giggle like those other birds out there. I want to marry you because I watched you willingly lay your own life on the line for Harry, over and over and over again. You're absolutely everything to me and as much as you hack me off, I'd rather be hacked off at you than happy with someone I've never wanted as much as I want you. I know that sounds fucked up, but it's true. All of its true. I have no life without you."

With that he gently bent down and kissed her hands. Hermione began to cry in earnest, she leaned in and kissed the top of his head. He lifted his head and looked in her eyes, his fingers playing with the engagement ring on her left hand.

"Do you still want to do this?"

"Yes."

"Do you still want to marry me?"

"God, yes!"

"Why?"

"Because, I love you, Ron. I do. I know we fight a lot and I don't care about any of that. I've just been so scared. This is so final. You and I getting married. But I know what I've known since you tried to hex Draco in our second year for calling me that word. I know that I'm hopelessly in love with you. I know that if I lose you, I'll never recover. That's why I bring up the tent, you know. Because sometimes I don't think you know how bad it was for me with you gone. I wanted to believe that it was just the locket breaking me down, but even Harry could see how broken I was. Ron, I want to marry you because I can breathe with you, I can stop being what everyone sees me as. Ron…I am so sorry I yelled at you today. I'm so sorry for what I said. You're not an idiot, and I know you've been so busy and tired. I was just frustrated and I took it out on you. I'm so very sorry for that. And I'd rather spend my life bickering with you then live in relative quiet with some other prat who has no idea how I work. I'm ready to marry you. I can't make the things I said to you go away, but I do all I can to prove to you that those were empty words."

Before she could say anymore, Ron silenced her with a kiss that took her breath away. She returned his kiss pouring every ounce of love she had for him since she was thirteen. By the time they pulled apart they were gasping for air, foreheads touching, eager hands running over the other's body.

"Okay, then," he said looking into her eyes. "I guess I'll marry you."

She playfully slapped at his shoulders. "You prat! You complete insufferable arse, Ron Weasley!" She was laughing before she could even finish yelling at him. She continued lightly pummeling him while he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to the floor. For the next several minutes there was a perfect storm of giggles, tiny shrieks, tangled limbs and randomly placed kisses. They rolled around on the floor, playful as puppies, until the heat of the summer day left them sprawled out on the floor, tangled in each other and too exhausted to move.

She laid there, her head in the crook of his neck. She adjusted herself so that she was looking at him. "What do you want to do today?"

"Not sure. Still want me to look over that guest list?"

"No. We'll put that off for a bit. We have time," she replied placing a wet kiss on his neck. She looked into his eyes, languidly sliding herself over his body. "The sun may already be up, but technically it's still morning."

That was one hint he definitely got. He pulled her down for a slow kiss. "Mmmm. My place or yours?"

Leaning in for another kiss, she whispered against his lips, "Take me home. Big man."

**AN:** **I do hope I wasn't too hard on Hermione. I really do love her but I think Ron needed to say some things to her.** **How can anyone believe that in his entire life, Ron would be exactly as he was from the age of 11-17? How can anyone believe that he wouldn't mature or hasn't matured over the years? Lastly, how can anyone think that someone as self conscious as Ron Weasley wouldn't be aware of his flaws and misdeeds? Considering who his parents, siblings and friends are, I would go so far as to say he's a decent guy, at the very least. We are the company we keep. Small rant over.**

**Reviews are welcome, if you want. Please be constructive and mature. Love!**


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